


Amor Vincit Omnia

by pocketmouse



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketmouse/pseuds/pocketmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP on a rainy day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Vincit Omnia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo, double penetration (two holes).  
> AU in that Andy's on the team. Just go with it.

It’s a wet, miserable February evening, and pissing down rain outside. Which explains why they’re all covered head to toe in mud — it’s been raining for three days solid, nonstop.

Owen’s been complaining nonstop as well. Tosh looks miserable, but at least she’s quieter about it. But right now Andy’s feeling equally miserable, and he just wants to get into the shower and get _clean_.

None of them have especially large bathrooms, so it’s Owen’s that they end up at — again — for proximity. Owen starts shedding clothes the moment he walks in the door, the thermostat in the flat turned up what Andy would normally call a ridiculous amount, but right now it feels pretty good. He and Tosh at least wait until they’re in the bathroom to strip, whereas Owen just steps right under the water, not even waiting for it to warm up.

It does mean he’s quiet, though, and by the time Andy joins him, it’s started to warm up. He scrubs at his ears, his neck, trying to dislodge the thick stuff. God, may he never see another sheepfold again.

“Come on, Tosh,” Owen says, and Andy opens his eyes again.

“But the bandages —”

“Sod the bandages, I’m your doctor, remember? I’ll do ‘em up again for you. C’mere.” He says this last with surprising gentleness, reaching past Andy to give Tosh a hand to lean on, which she takes, slipping off the ankle brace.

Owen and Andy take turns holding onto Tosh in the shower, slick fingers and smooth skin sliding everywhere, and Tosh is uncharacteristically amenable to it, a small smile peeking out the corner of her lips. Andy suspects she’s playing up the injury a bit, but he doesn’t mind giving her the extra attention, and she laughs at his suggestion that they carry her to the bedroom. It _is_ just a sprain, she insists, and he acquiesces, burying his nose in the nape of her neck while Owen searches out towels — they always forget.

There’s clean sheets on the bed, and Andy collapses onto them gratefully. Jack’s told them not to be in before noon tomorrow, an amused glint in his eye, and right now Andy plans to take him up on it, setting no alarms.

Owen is lying on the other side of Tosh, whispering something in her ear. A smile is blushing on her face, and he has a wicked grin. Andy groans. “Oh no. I’m wiped out. Sleep, please —”

But Owen’s reaching for him, and Owen never reaches, it’s always Tosh. “Don’t tell me you’re that tired,” he says, everything still a challenge with him.

“Yes,” Andy replies. He doesn’t want to fight with Owen tonight.

Owen’s other hand, the one not wrapped around Andy’s upper arm, is stroking slowly up and down Tosh’s back. Her skin is warm and golden in the light, and she leans a little into Owen’s touch.

He’s tempted. Very tempted.

Owen ups the ante, placing slow kisses down the line of Tosh’s shoulder, eying Andy challengingly.

“Don’t blame me if I fall asleep partway through,” he says with a growl, surrendering.

“If that happens, I’ve done something wrong,” Owen replies, and tugs Andy forward to kiss him. Owen doesn’t kiss with just his mouth, and before he’s done, Andy finds a leg tangled through his, and a hand in his hair. He pulls back, searching for Tosh.

She hasn’t gone anywhere, watching them avidly. Her cheeks are pinked, and Andy can’t help but kiss her too, hungrily, and she kisses back, wrapping herself around him.

Owen has slipped back, tracing the delicate line of her vertebrae with his fingers, hands busy in exploration. Andy moves his own, thumbing at her nipples, watching them peak. He leans down to taste them, and Tosh puts an encouraging hand in his hair. She gasps slightly, and he smiles.

Owen’s working his way back up, hands sliding over Tosh’s thighs to Andy’s, sliding over the muscles of his arse to cup his balls as he leans back. Andy can’t help a moan of his own.

Owen grins a little, cocky (if Andy can be forgiven the word) as he strokes Andy’s erection, expertly and with purpose.

“What’re you up to?” Andy asks, taking a moment to study Owen. Owen just grins wider and lets his hand slip down briefly to stroke at the cleft of his arse, then his hand is gone entirely. Andy only has a split second to think of the unfairness of this before Tosh’s hand has replaced Owen’s, and she’s guiding herself onto him, eyes closed in concentration. He quickly puts a hand at her hip, and she bites her lip, head thrown back as she rocks slowly forward.

Tosh is beautiful like this, when she lets herself go, gets caught up in what they’re doing. He knows that some of her hesitance is an inability to really believe that this is her life, and he can understand that, thinks it himself sometimes, though probably for different reasons. But once she can convince herself to go along with it, Tosh puts just as much effort and determination into her personal life as her work life, giving 130%, and Andy is more than willing to reap the benefits of that.

Owen is still poised behind Tosh, hands wrapped around her to cup and toy with her nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he watches Tosh fuck herself on Andy. Andy rolls his hips, causing Tosh to moan and lean forward. Owen follows every movement of it. His hands slide down Tosh’s sides as she leans forward to kiss Andy, and Andy loses track of him for a moment as he concentrates on that.

Tosh’s mouth is warm and sweet, and her tongue slides over his, slick and strong as she captures his mouth. He opens willingly, a _yes, please_ in the way he shifts his angle to accommodate her, breathless at her eagerness. He tugs at her lower lip lightly when she starts to pull away, bridging the gap with kisses until she falls back in again, deepening again by degrees.

She gasps again, bucks suddenly, nearly upsetting their unhurried rocking of hips, and he curves a hand around her back to soothe her.   
Owen intercepts it, pressing his wrist back over his head. “Don’t stop,” he says, voice low with interest and amusement.

Andy doesn’t, but he shifts his focus as Tosh moans again. Owen’s fingers are working in and out of her arse, coaxing her in a steady rhythm, and Tosh is torn between the two of them.

“God, that’s —” he stops, swallows. “Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” He’s speaking to both of them, and he reaches up to mouth at Tosh’s throat, open-mouthed and noisy for Owen’s benefit, her pulse racing beneath his tongue.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” Tosh says, breathless, and it doesn’t matter which one of them she’s talking to, neither one of them want to. But Owen removes his fingers and settles one hand at Tosh’s hip. Andy can’t choose between watching Owen work his way into her, slow, smooth strokes that rock Tosh into Andy’s cock, or watching their faces, both tightly controlled but ecstatic. He settles for a sort of relay, but focuses mostly on Tosh’s face and, surprisingly, Owen’s hands.

They’re wonderful hands. Strong and lean, like the rest of him, but gentle, soothing, even when he doesn’t mean to be. Owen has a definite weakness for touch, too, and Andy and Tosh both take advantage of, over his protestations. Right now his hands are settled against the hollow of Tosh’s hips, thumbs stroking small circles as Owen sways, his eyes closed in concentration, utterly absorbed in the feel of Tosh.

Tosh herself looks blissed out, biting her lip, color high on her cheeks. Andy tugs her closer, scattering kisses over her cheeks, throat, chin, eyes and forehead. Tosh sighs, slowing her rhythm, and he can feel it as Owen shifts, accommodates as well, one hand moving to trail over Andy’s thigh, mouthing a line of kisses up Tosh’s back. There’s a small, selfish part of him that wants to be where Tosh is now, held tight between the two of them, rocked and worshiped with careful hands. But he gets his turn, they all do, and he loves this, too, being able to see Tosh’s face, knowing that he’s doing this to her, to see the dedication in Owen, and he loves that the three of them fit together so well, impossibly perfect in any combination.

And Tosh loves being in the middle as well, so eager to be wrapped up in the two of them. She’s so giving, too, open and loving and he knows she finds this easier, the way she’s always so careful to be even-handed with the two of them. Not that he’s concerned, because it’s beautiful just to watch her light up. He twists his hips as he rocks, watching her face as he and Owen work her over, stroking and touching, overstimulation as they drive in from both sides, leaving Tosh as a massive bundle of sensations in the middle.

Andy clutches at Owen’s wrist where it rests over his hip, and Owen twists it, threading his fingers through Andy’s in response. His face is buried in the nape of Tosh’s neck. Tosh has Owen’s other hand, wrapped tight around hers and pressed against her sternum. She brushes her lips against Andy’s, then again, before kissing him, breathless. Andy ramps up his slow, lazy thrusts, a counterpoint now to Owen’s, going faster and faster as they conspire to wind Tosh up tighter and tighter. She grinds between them in a frenzy, chasing each sensation until at last she breaks open, orgasming with a soft gasp against Andy’s mouth, hips stuttering and bucking, breaking the rhythm. She collapses forward the final few inches to lie against Andy’s chest, and Owen pulls away, hand stripping his cock roughly, coming in sharp jerks against Tosh’s back.

Andy makes a noise of complaint — and it’s not like it’s a race, he reminds himself — but before he can do more Tosh is moving again, rocking deeper, and Owen is sliding a hand between the two of them, cupping his balls, and Andy’s noise turns to one of approval and he encourages Tosh up, curling in to taste her skin again, lapping at one tight nipple with his tongue. Owen’s hand slides further, brushing at his perineum, and that does it, one last push over the edge. Tosh trembles as well, not quite a second orgasm, but enough to draw a low moan from her as they both drift for a moment, Owen’s hands still tracing gentle patterns over both of them.

Tosh shifts, and Andy’s tiredness comes back to him like a wave. He blinks slowly.

“God, you’re useless after you’ve gotten off,” Owen says, but he’s amused, quiet, as he rolls to the edge of the bed to find (again) their towels from the shower earlier.

“You just want me for my arse, what are you complaining about,” he mutters in reply, still nosing against Tosh’s skin as she laughs at them.

“True enough,” Owen says agreeably as he returns, his hands once again betraying him as uses the towels with unnecessary care before curling back around Tosh.

“Not just your arse,” Tosh chides, hand moving lower over his stomach.

He catches it up, pressing a kiss to her palm. “No more,” he says. “Or I really will fall over at work tomorrow, and I’m not explaining that one.”

“We’ll cut you some slack,” Owen says. He leans over Tosh’s shoulder to kiss Andy, small and light, gone before he can reciprocate. “Though as your doctor, I reserve the right to test your reflexes and stamina in the morning.”

Andy can’t stop a smile from flickering across his face. “Deal.” Owen murmurs something else to Tosh, but Andy is already drifting away, worn-out and content, surrounded by the familiar sounds and smells he’s beginning to associate with happiness.


End file.
